Kingly life, Kingly thoughts
by A Badger Which Writes
Summary: "Of all the people in the world that I don't like, and I'm in a room full of 'em." Prophetic words spoken by Conker the Squirrel on the day he became king. Little did he realize that the more time he spent with them, the more he might change his mind. Assorted drabbles with a smidge of continuity.
1. In Which Rodent Finds a Bird

Another day of kingly duties. Conker groaned and wiped the sweat off his brow. The weather in Windy was all over the place, and during summer it could either melt your tail right off or rain for days on end.

He missed Berri, and he missed his old home. One of these days, he should just sneak out and sleep in his own bed again. What would his pals think? What would his mom think? They probably saw his mug in the newspapers. Must've been all over the isle already. He resented it.

He noticed someone sitting nearby. It was Rodent, his general and self-appointed advisor, page, and whatever second-in-command role he could devise for himself. Conker rubbed his tired face as he felt a pressing need to use the toilet. He didn't even want to say hi.

As he walked past the marble hallways, he heard a dull "thunk!" against one of the many windows. He was going to check it out, but before he could, that little nerd Rodent already scurried up to it.

"Sire!" he said, in his weird nasally voice. "That- that was a bird! I gotta help 'im!"

Before Conker could say anything, Rodent had opened a small part of the window and had stuck his head out. When he got back in, he was holding a tiny bird.

Conker cocked an eyebrow. What's the use of going through all that trouble for such an insignificant creature when he's supposed to be working?

Rodent, on the other hand, seemed doting over the tiny bird. He held its wings carefully against the animal, making sure it wouldn't accidentally hurt itself. Its beady eyes stared at Conker, which made him cringe a little.

"This is a pigeon," said Rodent. "A collared dove, to be precise, yes."

The bird lightly pecked at the squirrel's hands, but it didn't hurt. Rodent spoke comforting words to it, and it seemed to relax.

Conker's tail twitched impatiently and he crossed his arms. "Why do you know so much about them's flying rats anyway?"

With a small gasp, Rodent clutched the pigeon to his chest. The blood on its feathers stained his perfect proper sweater vest, but he didn't seem to care one bit. "Pigeons," Rodent muttered, "Were one of the few ways of exchanging mail during the Milk Wars. The enemy would train hawks to hunt them, so's the messages never arrived where they were supposed to."

"Huh." Conker wasn't expecting a yarn like that. It piqued his curiousity. "You sure know a lot about this kinda stuff."

"Well, that is to say," said Rodent, "I'm more a book smart kinda guy. I've read a ton on it, on the old war. I even got a tank for my sweet 16! My mom thought it'd be a fun thing, considering I was like a walking encyclopedia on wartime aesthetics. And then I kinda got into tanks."

A tank? Conker bit his lip. His mom gave him a cake when he turned 16. It was a tasty cake, but compared to a tank... his dad got him money, and Berri- no. Don't think about her.

Rodent kept rambling. "And, well, since pigeons played such a role, I decided to study them too. Did you know pigeons navigate through the planet's magnetism? They're really, really clever little birds, only rivaled by crows."

While looking at his general stroke the feathers of the bird lovingly, Conker felt a twinge of emotional guilt somehow. Rodent had everything his little nerdy heart could wish for... yet found the life of this pigeon so very important. While it was just that. A pigeon. What in this pigeon compelled this spoiled, rich kid to treat it like it was the last of its kind?

"Oh! Your highness," said Rodent, a glint in his spectacled eyes. "Could I use some of your first-aid kit? This little guy really needs some time to recover."

"Uh? Sure, do what ya want. My castle is your castle."

Conker definitely got a change of heart now. And as the younger squirrel trotted off while muttering to the pigeon, he got lost in thought. Maybe Rodent wasn't so bad. A spoiled kid who grew up a little wacky, but good-natured nonetheless.

He had a good heart.

Conker chuckled wryly. "Good ol' Rodent. Bless his soul."


	2. In Which Conkula Returns from the Death

He appeared in what seemed an instant.

Ever so alert, the two guards quickly crossed their spears to keep this strange newcomer from coming any further. The tallest weasel's eyes narrowed to slits. "Who are you and what is your purpose?"

His fat companion pushed him. "Bill, ye don't just ask people what their purpose is."

The taller weasel uttered an apology.

The stranger was a very tall, very old gray squirrel, though he looked like as if he once were red. He had a ridiculous, oldtimey hairdo and his face was covered in scars and stitches. Whenever he extended a bony hand to gesture, it could easily be noticed that that, too, was scarred.

It was as if he was some sort of monster made from various parts and bits and pieces by some crazy professor.

Since the weasels only knew one professor, one that didn't have many good associations, the thought made them shiver.

"I don't trust this man, Bob." Bill spoke quietly. "He looks like a ragdoll and he sounds like grandpa pants."

Bob rolled his eyes. He too didn't trust it at all, but felt like it would be better to hide his feelings.

The stranger spoke. "Veasels," he said. His accent was thick. Something northern. "May I ask the two of you a question? Vould you perhaps know, if the man by the name of Conker lives in this... this fortress?"

"No," said Bill.

"Yes," said Bob.

The two weasels glared at each other.

"That is to say," said Bill quickly, "he ordered us to stay put for everyone that isn't his mom, Candy Kong, or himself for the future. So unless you happen to be one of those, we cannot let you in, no."

He then whispered something to his fat companion about what Candy Kong looks like, and got a hushed insult hurled at him that he doubts that someone with a name like that would look like a zombie.

The stranger, meanwhile, just casually walked past while the two were arguing. He had such a light tread, it seemed as if he were floating. Needless to say, the weasels didn't notice him slipping past until he was inside.

Bob looked from the stranger to his companion and back again. "Did ya just-"

"Don't worry, Bob," said Bill. "I'm pretty sure that might just be Candy Kong."

Bob's hand slapped his face. "You. Stupid. Twat."

Conker was idly sitting on his throne, contemplating the thought of whether or not to touch himself. He did have a next-gen phone, at least, so boredom was never close by these days. He placed his bottle of beer on the table, only to remember a little too late that it still wasn't fixed - and a loud crash was next.

"Uuuuuugh."

This just wasn't his day. Conker clapped his hands twice. "Rodent! Oh, Rodent! I made a mess...!"

As soon as he clapped, his loyal advisor had appeared in front of him, wearing a full French maid outfit. Conker snorted audibly. "Rodent, what the heck?"

"I saw 'em wear these in a show I watch! Thought it'd be funny."

"Yeah, funny..." Conker guffawed. "You got that right."

As Rodent went to work on the mess, Conker couldn't help but lean over the armrest and swat at his tail, which made him blush.

"You're askin' for it, ya li'l dorky nerd."

Then, suddenly, this very tall and very pale man stood in front of him. He had his hands folded together pensively in utter silence and his bloodshot eyes stared. Judged.

Rodent quickly scurried off and Conker quickly regained a more kingly posture. "Wh- who let you in."

The stranger chuckled. "Hello, Conker."

It all came back to him. The haunted mansion on top of the hill, the villagers, the grinder - Count Conkula. The big fat vampire who used him for his little errands and didn't have any sort of inheritance.

With a frown, Conker placed his crown on his head and pointed. "What do you want, old man? Haven't you done enough when ya turned me? I still bite my tongue every other time."

Conkula smirked darkly, not moving from his position. "I have heard many zings about you, Conker. Zings zat you got rid of those Tediz pests. Zings..." he inhaled sharply. "Zings about your reign."

"Yeh, first of all, it's "things", and second of all, I did do all that, yes." Conker puffed out his chest and pushed his crown a bit forward. "And third of all, how are you even alive? I saw you get turned to mush by your own grinder." He chuckled a little. "I pooped in that thing."

"Vat?"

"Nothing!"

Conkula slid closer, examining the smaller squirrel thoughfully. He ran his bony hands through Conker's tail, who quickly pulled it back with a pout. "Yes... my suspicions were right. You, indeed, are part of my bloodline. Red squirrel. If you remember... a zertain man once said, us reds have as many lives... as zey zink they can get away with."

Conker's little nose twitched and his eyes darted from left to right. He was a little too close for comfort now. "But you're grey."

"I am merely grey... because of my age, yes?"

"Huh." That made sense. Conker slouched into his chair. "What do you want, anyway?"

He didn't have particularly fond memories of this guy. After all, you'd be hard-pressed to let someone back into your life who kinda wanted to kill you and drink your blood. And later used you for his personal gain.

Nope, this guy wasn't the first choice to come back into his life. And Conker wasn't about to get swayed very easily.

Yet, Conkula seemed a little sad now. He was all stitched up, and looked like he had seen much better days.

"I am sorry," the old vampire finally said. "I saw potenzial in you, Conker... and got a bit too caught up into it. You are a good squirrel, yes. Pray, let me into your inner sanctum. I will compensate for my presence with errands... the same way you did for me."

Conker couldn't help but chuckle. He waved a dismissive hand. The alcohol made him a lot more lax to new things. "Ah, y'know what, sure. Just don't poop in my fridge."

Lucky for him, he didn't stick around to listen to that last comment. Instead, he floated to a corner of the room and in a puff of smoke, turned into his bat form. He climbed higher and higher into the air with his tiny wings until he hung himself upside-down on a beam.

Rodent picked up the pile of clothes that the vampire left behind, and fancied them on himself. Conker laughed at that. "Much better look on ya, Rodent!"

Blushing, Rodent ran off while he giggled up a storm.

Conker took off his crown and looked at the big bat hanging upside-down from his ceiling. It was a freaky sight. And he might just put a lock on his bedroom door to avoid getting bitten again.

But yet, it gave him an odd sense of comfort. Like a grandpa he never had. A strange, old, immortal vampire grandpa.

It sounded like something from a cartoon. At least, if he tried anything bad, he'd have his General-slash-maid and guards to protect him.

The day was still young. Conker grabbed a bottle, uncorked it, and gulped a it down halfway. He wiped his mouth, and gazed at the label. That was one heck of a high alcohol content. He hiccuped, though it might as well have been a belch. "I might need to limit my beer intake..."


	3. In Which Conkula and Conker Bat Around

A long day had ended. Conker entered his room and let his jacket drop to the floor. He scratched his tummy and kicked off his sneakers. With a big yawn, he flopped down on his royal bed. It was enormous, fit for a panther king, and not for a squirrel. He looked like someone's tiny doll on their bed.

Crawling up to the middle, Conker pushed his head under the blanket and made his way through it, only to return back to where he started, except turned around and laying on his back. His weary head rested on the enormous pillow, and he sighed deeply. Complete silence, his good old friend.

The ringing in his ears kept him up and his mind wandered. In the darkness, the shapes in his room looked frightening. It was as if they were made of many monsters that were out to eat him. He thought he recognized the alien and the Panther King in the many faint silhouettes.

The squirrel's little heart pounded hard in his chest. He missed his old bed. It was small, but just big enough for him and- someone else. All alone in a gargantuan cot like this felt weird. Unnatural.

He smacked his lips and remembered he barely had anything to drink this day. Going to sleep with a dry mouth is a hard challenge on any day, so he decided to get out and get himself a glass of water. ...Maybe he'd get a nightcap instead, to distract him from his bad thoughts.

Yet, when he came back, he forgot one very important thing.

Closing his door.

When Conker woke up again, it was still dark out. Yet, he could still not see very well. When he opened his mouth to groan, he noticed he could make out more of his surroundings, somehow, albeit for an instant. He wanted to say "what's this mess?" but it came out as squeaks - squeaks that somehow illuminated the room before fading again.

Reaching for his hand with the other made him realize that he had no hands anymore, he had wings. Long, leathery wings. As he shook his head, long ears flopped against his body.

A bat. He was a bat.

He internally cursed at Conkula, who was obviously behind this. He should've never let that crazy old fart into the castle in the first place. And now he had to pay the price.

He crawled around on the huge bed, now even bigger considering his bat form's tiny size. He made a small hop on his little bat legs. Vampires were good at running on all fours, and Conker had a clear advantage in that field considering he used to run like a proper squirrel in his youth. He missed that.

"Velcome to ze night, Conker."

He made a little jump at hearing that. In the giant open windowsill hung the vampire Conkula, upside-down. His big red eyes stared into the darkness, though Conker could not see their colour. He made a few screechy bat noises and made out the form of his undead ancestor.

"Yes, yes. It's a pain, I know." The larger bat flapped his laughable tiny wings. "I vas thinking, perhaps you and I could go on a nightly romp. Some bat bonding. Vat do you say?"

Conker-bat angrily squeaked at Conkula.

"You can indeed still only speak as vat you are... a bat."

Having no choice, Conker decided to test his little wings and his echolocation skills. A few flaps was all it took for him to take to the air. He flew in circles, screeched, went higher and higher, until he bumped against the wall. The itty-bitty claws clung to a tapestry depicting an old panther, and he echoed at his adversary.

"Very good," spoke Conkula, beckoning his tiny family member to follow him. "In due time, you too, will be able to speak. But for now... let us take to the night sky."

In the darkness of midnight, nobody had any idea of the two vampires flying alongside the old village. Conker felt somewhat exasparated, though the feeling of flying was one that couldn't be compared to anything else. He skillfully managed to avoid all the dead trees and buildings.

"At zis hour, ze villagers are asleep." Conkula perched on a roof. It creaked under his batty girth. Conker flapped closed and perched on his head. "I have spent many years avoiding them. So far... zey never killed me. But you did, Conker."

The smaller bat squeaked a little, he was meaning to say that he wanted to kill him too, so it was self-defense.

Conkula shook his head. "Zis is vater under the bridge."

They took a while to take in the view, for as much as they could see. The black-and-white vision of a bat wasn't as good as that of other mammals, but they could still make out shapes, like the moon. It seemed closer than ever, and Conker felt melancholy. Mostly because deep within his gut, he knew Berri was out there, and he was powerless to help. He sighed.

"Hm?" Conkula looked at him. "Ah yes... ze girl."

Conker crawled away to sit at the very point of the roof. The silence all around them, only broken by the chirping of crickets and owl hoots, made it feel like a comforting companionship.

"You know, Conker. Before I met you, my descendant... I felt like all my kin had passed away. I am very old, as you know. I have.. not zeen any red squirrels in a very long time. I thought they were all gone. Ezpecially... after the war." He took a deep breath and stretched his wings.

Again with the war? Everyone was talking about it these days. Conker rolled his blue eyes. He felt like he was the only one who didn't know anything about it. It ticked him off.

"Ze squirrels, and ze panthers..." Conkula trailed off. "Ze red squirrels... zey died. It has been so long. I have not seen panthers either."

Oh, boy. Conker knew all about that. If only he could talk. He tensed up his throat, and forced out a single, squeaky word. "King."

"Vat is zat?" Conkula arched his back to look at the moon. "Ze king? ...Ze panther was ze king?"

Conker nodded, and made a gesture of punching with one little wing, which almost made him lose his footing.

"You fought him? I doubt so. You are so... small. Pray. You could never."

Okay, he had a point. To be fair, it was that crazy professor who killed the Panther King, with his freaky alien pet.

But he didn't need to know. Not yet. Instead, Conker decided to stare some more at the moon. Even with reduced vision, it was still a wonderful sight.

A church bell sounded in the distance, and he felt lucky he wasn't in the belfry.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his body. He felt his long fangs shrinking, his limbs growing unevenly, and his tiny tattered wings getting torn into bits by his shrinking hands. Soon, he was back to being a squirrel. A squirrel whose throat gave out and was now coughing like mad.

"Vat?" Conkula looked at his companion who was coughing up a storm. "Oh. Your vampire side gave up."

Conker gagged, and finally managed to speak. "Yeah, dang right it did. I felt like I was being burned from the inside out. Look, man, I love you and all that, but next time you do this, could ya ask first?"

A small chuckle came from Conkula. "Duly noted. Shall I bving you back to ze castle? Ze sun will rise in a couple hours."

Noticing he was naked, Conker quickly wrapped his long bushy tail around his private parts. "Yes. Please. And don't peek."

And soon after, Conker went flying back in the claws of his ancestor. What a ride that was. He realized that even a vampire might have a emotional side. He felt that maybe he should talk to him a little bit more. After all, he knew all about losing loved ones.


	4. In Which The Little Girl Does a Thing

From out of the bushes rolled a small lump. Conker, out on his morning walk, immediately noticed it. It looked like a pile of dirty clothes. How it got there, he did not know. He was in the middle of the Barn Boys Valley and he knew all too well that nobody around here wore any clothes... for better or worse. He carefully extended a leg to prod at it with his shoe.

With a screech, the tiny, legless terror turned around to bare its teeth towards him, sending him stumbling backwards and setting all his fur right on end.

The motley little thing looked a lot like that nasty little girl he had fought during the war. However, her enormous Tediz partner was nowhere to be found. She just looked up at him, her neck crooked in an uncanny manner, and hissed a garbled hiss from a broken trachea.

Conker immediately wiped his foot on the grass. Awful little twit. He wanted to blow it up but yet, something about her didn't let him. Something in those eerie, piercing green eyes reminded him of somebody.

Even if it would be a mercy kill, at best. Pathetic. It laid on the ground like a limp doll without feet.

"I thought you got blown up." Conker finally spoke up, glaring at her with one eye whilst looking at a little garbage game on his phone with the other.

She only gurgled something eerie. Conker was twitching his tail about uncomfortably, and looked about to see if anyone else was following him. Not much, other than the sound of a distant banjo. He eased his conscience with the thought that she was now harmless.

Finally, after a sickening crack of her neck, she spoke in a high-pitched gurgle. "Rrrgh, Conker."

Tap tap. One microtransaction later and Conker gave her just a flick of his eye. "Yeh, that's me. What d'you want?"

"Remember when I was... a little girl?"

The little heap of what once used to be a toddler squirrel squirmed about, heaving herself up with her flimsy, scarred arms. It slightly startled him, but what was the worst that could happen?

Conker rolled his eyes. "I... don't. You had a hand of a tediz stuck up yer... uh. Y'know."

Her rasp made place for a more regular voice, her eyes turning back to blue as if by magic - and she suddenly sounded pathetic. Like an actual little girl. She looked up at Conker with a snap of her neck, her tattered bow falling over her suddenly tearful eyes.

"I want my mommy."

Eugh. Awkward. He still didn't trust her, especially if she switched from one to two so easily. Maybe there was actually something about her. He was curious, but also felt he had way too much on his plate to begin with, anyway.

"Alright, you wanna tell me your convoluted angsty backstory, then?"

The brat was behind a lot of nastiness, and Conker was absolutely sure she would do it again. No sense in trusting her.

She adjusted herself, sitting up for as much as she could without legs. She covered her eyes, as if weeping - then she spoke.

"I don't remember."

What an anticlimax. Conker sighed, put away his phone and walked off, wondering why he'd even try. He didn't notice her turning her head around again, and her eyes glaring in that noxious green shade behind his back.

It had shaped up to be a remarkably quiet evening, apart from some chilly breezes wafting in through the castle's windows. Conker was laying down on his gargantuan throne, surrounded by scraps of junk food wrapping, empty beer cans, dirty magazines and anything you'd find in a proper man-cave - except this man-cave was a throne room. Furiously tapping away on an old game controller, he made sure to install a little television in front of his throne after he felt an incredible itch to play some good old retro games again.

A small voice interrupted his game.

"Sire- I mean, Conker!" It was Rodent. He came running with a broom and a vacuum cleaner, as if he didn't know which one to use. "How many times do I have to tell you to clean up after yourself... you're a King now, not a slob!"

He didn't even listen. Shut up, Rodent.

"Did you... aw, gross! We have toilets for that!"

Laziness triumphed over the fact that they had some of the most exclusive, fancy washrooms in the entire country, and why walk all that way when you have empty bottles around? Idly picking at his nose with his little finger, Conker waved at his subsidiary to get lost without pausing his game.

A clatter sounded. For a moment, the disinterested king thought that Rodent had accidentally dropped the piss bottle, but it sounded a lot bigger than that. Rodent gave a scream... sounded more like a squeal. He called his name. Whatever. Conker was already grabbing for his headphones...

Then his TV got turned off. A distraught Rodent hopped in front of the machine, pulling Conker's head about by his chubby cheeks to face his duty. "Conker, you royal PAIN! Open your damn EYES!"

The little general panicked, running about in one spot. In the distance, a floating chair appeared. On first impression, Conker swallowed hard - he feared the Professor came back for revenge... until he squinted and saw that instead of the legless weasel, a tiny, grey girl sat upon it. She cackled. Madly. Mechanically... raspy. He heard that rasp that morning.

"I like this joint, Mr. Squirrel!"

Oh no. Did she follow him? That was awfully sneaky. He wasn't expecting that at all. She floated about, twiddling on the control stick like it was some kind of game to her. All the while, she was cackling madly and knocking over whatever she could get her hands on. But not until she knocked over the TV did Conker speak up. "How in the-"

She adjusted the chair in front of his face and grinned widely. Those big piercing eyes stared into his without blinking. "This little girl has some tricks up her sleeve!"

"You broke my TV!" Conker exclaimed.

"I will break even more if I can!" Without much of another word, she whizzed about again with the full intent to ruin the entire throne room.

Conker stared at her without moving. "M-my TV..."

Rodent, who had hidden behind a pillar in all the chaos, peeked out from behind and adjusted his small glasses. He uttered a single exasparated sigh. "I thought we beat her!" he pulled at his ears. "I can't believe this!"

With a panicking Rodent and a Conker mourning the death of his cheap, off-brand, thrift store TV (and lost game progress) nobody noticed that the guards had already showed up to reprimand the cause of all the chaos. Once caught up to her, the two weasels had piled on top of her successfully. She spluttered angrily, her chair whizzing off into a corner without much aim. Green eyes glared daggers at the confused king and his lackeys.

"Got 'em," said Bob, the fat weasel, firmly as he held her to the ground. He was going to be gentle until she planted her sharp little teeth into his arm and hurled some very explicit adult language at him... and he promptly smooshed her under his strong hands to not let her try that again. "Whose child is this?"

Bill was standing guard behind his companion, clutching his flag a bit warily. He scratched his head under his helmet as he looked at her. "Doesn't look like a normal kid t' me."

Meanwhile, the little girl spat and growled like an angry, rabid cat, occassionally making deeply disturbing noises no kid should be able to.

"Your majesty? What we gotta do with this little bitch?"

Conker was reciting a little eulogy about his perished television, hand on his chest. Rodent wanted to yell at him, but couldn't bring up the courage to do so. He probably had too much too drink so he couldn't fault the guy too much...

Bob shook his head at his two superiors, a bit humbled. "Dungeon it is. Yer lucky I'm sucha nice guy, miss monster."

The little legless girl glared at him and switched her voice to demonic mode. "Fuck off!"

Bill inched away from her, grabbing onto his tail for comfort. "Told ya. No way this is a kid."

With those final words, the two restrained her and carried her off to the dungeons. As Conker watched them leave, he heard her hiss and swear something at him. Despite his slightly drunken stupor, he could barely make out a tiny middle finger raised towards him. That little girl was going to give him a lot of trouble...


	5. In Which Gregg is Hecking Peeved

"Your Highness?"

Bob rummaged through one of the royal dressers, putting back a multitude of blue jackets and some... tight white underwear. Does he even wear them? He didn't ponder it too much. "D'you need em sorted by colour, or...?"

But then, when the fat weasel went over to the window to give the bedsheets a good pummeling... an unpleasant surprise, laying limply on the rocks way below, crept into his field of vision.

Bob grit his teeth, not sure how to react. "Oi. He's feckin' dead."

When Conker awoke, he had to jostle his brain like he hadn't done in a long time. What happened? That was one hell of a night out. He was sure of one thing, and that was that it was definitely more than alcohol this time... he raised a gloved hand to his forehead, feeling it pound in his fingertips. "Ouugh..."

He expected a load of sunshine to his tired eyes, but got none of the sort. It was pure darkness. The only sound audible were some eerie, very distant moans.

Oh god. Did he.. die?

"Conker!" yelped a very shrill, high-pitched voice. Unmistakably the tiny grim reaper, out to do his job. He seemed to have lost his megaphone. "You soddin' idiot!"

Conker opened his eyes entirely, and saw the dimunitive skeleton ambling towards him, scythe in hand. He was scowling at him with those empty eye sockets. Instinctively, the squirrel uttered a groan. He's been here before. The hangover was worse on him than dying at this very moment.

"Bother me not if you still have your tails, I told ya a hundred times! Where do you keep finding them?" Gregg went on his little tangent, not even pausing to take a breath.

Though in this dire situation, Conker had to sigh in relief. Not quite dead yet, once more. For better or worse... He carefully stepped over his tail to stand up, and dusted himself off. "What's the status quo, ol' chap?"

Gregg halted his rant, and glared at Conker with bewilderment visible on his skeletal face. "Don't act all buddy-buddy with me, ya li'l prick! I told you last time. You had at LEAST six. And here you are, out on a bender? What'd they slip you to make you jump out of a bloody, sodding window?"

Uh... did that happen? Sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, Conker stretched out his arms. He chuckled, awkwardly. "Stuff happens!"

Gregg was at his last nerve. "It's bad enough I gotta do this shitey gig all on me own... well, alright, there's another fellow but he just moans and plays guitar on his scythe. Hate him. It sounds like a cat gettin' skinned alive. Eugh... cats."

Conker tried to sneak away from the tiny grim reaper, but he quickly noticed. "Get yer arse back here!"

"But I don't wannaaaa!" Conker whined like a child. "I need ta sleep...!"

Gregg moaned in annoyance, giving the squirrel a few forceful prods with his scythe's sharp end. That only made him jump and give a small yelp. "Piss off and leave me alone, today was my only free day of the year and you blew it!"

"Look, Gregg, my boy, I was going to offer you a drink on me onna these days, but if you wanna be like that..."

Not about to be swayed, Gregg waved his scythe and before Conker realized it, he was hauled up into the void by a giant skeletal hand.

8888

"Dearly beloved... we have gathered here to mourn the passing of our dear king Conker The Squirrel the First, small of stature but big of heart..."

The small but tight-knit castle crew - that is, Rodent and the guards - had gathered around the spot where their king supposedly fell to his untimely death. Bill was giving an eulogy for his monarch, holding back his tears as much as he could (and failing). Bob was patting his back in comfort, and Rodent bawled into a napkin. The rain came in, dampening their spirits and fur.

"Can I... can I have one last look at him?" Rodent piped up between sobs. "He's... well, we go back a while..."

Gently, Bob ushered him closer, and lifted a small tip of the blanket that was covering what they thought was Conker.

But Rodent stopped crying, and sounded confused.

"Where is he?"

"What'd you mean, where is he? e's Right there... bloody hell?"

As Bob pulled back the blanket with one fell tug, the trio of upset underlings discovered that there was absolutely nobody under the blanket.

A very familiar voice piped up from behind them. "'Sup, guys? Why so upset? The sun's gonna come out in a few minutes, y'know!"

Indeed, there was Conker, flawless and unscathed, and with an annoyingly bright glow to his red fur.

Rodent stomped over and throttled him. "Why you scare us like that? You absolute freakin' maniac!"

Well. That went about as well as expected. Conker was going to say "I thought you'd be happy to see me!" if he wasn't in the progress of being shaken to and fro. Thusly, the trio chased him all around the castle for scaring them like that. Only after a good ten minutes did they calm down to ask what happened, and Conker all-too-gleefully explained his little stash of tails.

"And dis is why we put bars in front of castle windows, sire." Bob spoke in a deadpan afterwards. "Now go to sleep before that happens again."

Conker's ears perked up and he gave a frown. "But I'm not tired at all!"

"Sleep. Now."

Conker could protest all he want, but Bob was not having any of it. He tugged the king by his tail into the royal sleeping chamber.

It wasn't even that late. Bob just had a knack for being that sort of friend.

Bill hobbled behind, still trying to process everything that still happened. "How's that even work, sire?"

Grumbling to himself, Conker meekly let himself get dragged along. "Find a tail and I live extra. Also, I'm part vampire, apparently. It's best to not think of it too much. Where'd Rodent go?"

"He's in his room. Seems angry. Something about a funeral he was planning."

"Ouch," said Conker. "Uh... I'll talk to him later."

Surprisingly, the rest of the day went a lot more relaxed than anticipated... although Bob did make it a rush job to add extra bars to Conker's windows just in case.


End file.
